|
With your gaze so wide and heart so kind and pure,
You noticed me.
Your last gaze upon me. I replay it in my head a thousand times,
Like a soft echo that never fades.
The prayers you left me with, still wrapped around my heart,
A shield against the coldness of this world.
The thousand miles we traveled never felt long,
Because at the end of every road was you, my beloved.
I remember the longing
The aching excitement of my younger years,
When I was still single, living beneath my parents’ roof.
How I would beg my father and mother,
“Please, let me go see my Mawlana.”
No snowstorm, no icy road could stop me.
We would drive through the dark nights, across states and cities,
Just to sit in your presence.
The hum of the road beneath us,
The quiet prayers whispered in the car
All leading to the warmth of your light.
But that last time… it was different.
I sat in front of your house,
Beside my soul sister, hearts trembling with quiet prayer.
Waiting. Hoping.
Until we were called in.
We walked into the room,
And there you were — sitting in your wheelchair.
Silent. Frail.
Your voice was gone, but your presence filled the room.
I knelt before you, searching your face,
Desperate to hear one more word,
One more prayer,
One more sign that you knew I was there.
And you saw me.
Your eyes, heavy with time and mercy,
Met mine and I knew.
Even without words, you spoke to me.
Even in silence, you gave.
Your mercy and love never turned away from me.
You gave without measure, without hesitation.
You saw my restless heart,
My clumsy steps toward faith,
And you smiled
A quiet mercy that steadied me through the storms of my youth.
Ya Mawlana,
That was the last time I saw you in this dunya.
But you are not gone.
Your spirit lives on — in the echo of dhikr,
In the quiet prayers that rise from my heart.
Even now, through the weight of time and distance,
I close my eyes, and I’m there again
Sitting among my sisters,
Wrapped in the sound of dhikr,
Safe beneath your gaze.
| 
